Don't Let Me Get Me
by Gwyn Gwanylada
Summary: He was always the little kid tagalong who everyone loved. Well, things change. Angst, romance, and bar fights. Seth/Canon- read to find out.
1. I Don't Take Direction

I'm so freaking tired of it.

"Boo freaking hoo, Leah," I snarl. "I'm sick of your whining."

Paul looks shocked. The look on his face says, _How the hell did something like that come out of the perfect Seth Clearwater's mouth?_

I don't want to answer. The story is just me angsting over my life. I've become what my mom never wanted me to be, and how Jacob was after _she _left.

"SHUT UP, SETH!" Leah shouts. Her face is contorted, her voice a snarl. She's upset over the situation with her love life. Not only did another one run away, but apparently she's fat and Sam is a fascist bastard.

_What else is new?_

I give my bitchy sister a look. "No." I'm sick of it all. "I'll keep talking if I want to. You're always moaning about some shit or other, and you don't even think about me. It all revolves around you. I'm tired of it."

"The hell with you, Seth! How would _you_ like to live _my _life? Deal with what I do? Dad's death? Being a wolf? Never being able to start a family?"

I used to feel so bad for Leah. Now I realize that she's really annoying, and incredibly self-centered.

_Not dealing with it._

Leah doesn't deserve for me to deal with her. That would be a waste of my time. I walk out the door in the kitchen. Paul exhales. As I slam the door behind me, I hear him say to Leah, "He's sort of right. You know you never really bother to think about him? He's becoming like Jacob."

I don't want to dwell on that fact.

So the question is, with all of my angst in tow, how did I get on the angsty part of this not-so-kiddie ride?

Time. Tragedy. Compassion. Too much empathy.

I was always the one to think of other people before me. I thought of my mom and Leah when my dad died. I knew I had to be strong for them. I always put myself in Leah's shoes, making my head hurt. I did what everyone wanted, no questions asked.

Jacob once told me I had one of the purest minds Edward had ever seen.

Not anymore.

Somehow, I got this way. Well, screw it.

I jam my hands into my pockets, for once wearing clothes. A reckless idea comes to mind.

I got a brand new attitude, and I'm gonna wear it tonight. I wanna get in trouble, I wanna start a fight.

The stars are beginning to show in the pink sky. The old me would stop to admire it.

_I'm not the old Seth anymore._

Wait. Where the hell would I get in a fight?

… Maybe… A bar? There's always fights there in movies. I shake my head and head towards Port Angeles, having phased and tied my clothes to my leg.

_There's no reason to be like this. You were never this person._

Shut up, I tell the voice in my head. Thank God no one is running patrol right now, otherwise, I'd be dealing with a lot more crap.

I phase behind an old church in Port Angeles. Recklessly, I stride into the bar a few steps away, the bouncer clearly assuming I'm so much older than fifteen.

There's a hot girl sitting next to a guy. There Forks kids obviously, and I wonder how they snuck in.

The one girl next to the boy is blond, really hot, with straight hair, blue eyes, and big boobs.

_Sweetness. _

The guy is a chump, looking at her every two seconds as if he's afraid he's going to lose her. The girl sitting on the blonde's other side has brown curly hair and looks murderous. Clearly, she wants this guy the blonde has.

_Looks like I've found my fight._

I stride up to the girl confidently. "Travis Melbourne," I say, lying to protect my name, "can I buy you, a, ah, drink?"

She looks at me disdainfully. "As if. Mike, get this stalker off me."

She's an idiot. Doesn't know who she's messing with. "Mike" looks intimidated by my size, but nevertheless manages to spit out, "Hey, buddy. Leave. She's with me."

I laugh. "And I feel bad for her because of it. Seriously, girl, you want a drink or a night?" I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

Her pretty little mouth drops open in a perfect O. Her friend narrows her eyes. "I know you from somewhere, and I don't know where, but you'd better back off _now._"

Snorting, I oblige. I'll get them with this. I'll get them all. Seth Clearwater in a fight? It'd be like elephants tap dancing.

_Expect it to be a regular occurrence. _

As I leave the bar where the trio is sitting, I let my fingers do the talked. They brush against the girls low cut top and then traipse along her butt.

_Nice_.

The boy, Mike, stands up. He pushes my chest. "Hey, asshole, back off my girlfriend!"

_Yeah, right._

And so it begins.

I throw the first punch.


	2. I'm a Hazard to Myself

[b]Chapter Two: I'm a Hazard to Myself[/b]

The chode, Mike, staggers back, his eye welling up. I got in a pretty good hit.

"Aww, man, f**k you!"

The entire bar is now watching. The bouncer looks uneasy and sidles up, watching closely as Mike's face screws up and he aims a blow at [i]my[/i] face in turn.

Too bad that hurts him more than it hurts me.

The crunch is solid and tears leak out of his girly eyes. I laugh as he stumbles back, falling on a chair and knocking over a table.

"You're a douche," I grin.

Mike gives me the finger on his bad hand and cries even harder. "Man, get him out of here!" he yells at the bouncer.

The bouncer, a stereotypical biker-looking dude with a huge handlebar mustache, gives him a hard look before turning on me. "Get out of here, kid."

"[i]I'm not a kid,[/i]" I snarl. I aim a kick for his crotch and hit him pretty damn good. He crumples to the ground. The remaining customers look very scared and edge towards the back exit. The blond girl looks frightened, while the brunette looks more like she's loving every minute of this.

I growl in her direction. I'm here for a fight, and to scare the shit out of everyone. If I'm not doing so, then I'm not proving my point.

[i]Why am I doing this?[/i]

The question comes up again, from the back of my mind. I don't want to think about it any more than I've addressed it coming up here. I've come for a fight, and I've got one.

[i]So why am I still not satisfied[/i]?

F*ck this. I decide to leave as impulsively as I've come. I've left a small bit of destruction in this shitty bar, and I add to it as I storm out, rebellious and yet cool. I hit all the glasses hanging upside down, ignoring the pain in my hand, the blood that's been released.

It'll heal soon enough.

[i]Fresh air.[/i]

I explode out of my clothes in the same place I phased back to human. I don't care about my clothes flying around in bits and scraps. I'll walk around naked, for all I care. I have the body to show it.

As I run back to La Push, the thoughts I've locked up spill out. Everything that made me how I am right now- okay, maybe just the one thing.

[i]He's gone.[/i]

Is it not ironic that as these words run through my head, the breeze that ruffles my fur picks up? I swear.

It's been hard ever since he left us three months ago. Leah and Mom, always psychoanalyzing me, think I was in a funk before then, and then that pushed me over the edge. Maybe so, but I've been getting to be this way for a while now.

It's affecting me, and I'm acting stupid. I know it, but I like acting stupid. I'm a teenager, I want to mess around. I [i]liked[/i] starting that fight. And if Sam finds out, well, too bad. I've got a stronger bloodline than him. In fact, now that [i]he's[/i] gone, Quil, Leah and I are the strongest fighters. I don't care if Sam's the Alpha.

If he finds out, he finds out. I'll take him. I don't regret hitting on a hot chick, or throwing a couple punches. In fact, I kind of wish I had maybe gotten a little buzzed, though I've heard from Paul that being a werewolf makes it a bit harder.

[i]Was he ever this way?[/i]

Yes. Yes, he was. He was this way after she left him, and now I'm this way after he left me. He was my best friend. I idolized him. But now I've lost him and Dad, and I've lost myself.

Running. Running. Running.

Maybe if I lose my thought process to the rhythm of running, I won't have to go back to thinking.

I walk through the door of Emily and Sam's butt naked. Emily, Claire, and Leah are in the kitchen, unfortunately.

DAMN.

Just my freaking luck.

Emily's eyebrows shoot up as she looks away from Leah, who's clearly moaning about her problems.

Her face is grim as she says, unkindly, "Seth. Inappropriate in front of Claire. Why aren't you dressed?"

I mumble something incoherent. Sam's imprint frowns.

"Get changed. [i]Now.[/i]"

I follow Emily's instructions and head upstairs starkers. Sam happens to be coming down the steps. When he sees me, he raises his eyebrows.

Somehow, he [i]know[/i]. He [i]knows[/i].

"Seth," begins the Alpha, "What the hell did you do?"


	3. I'm My Own Worst Enemy

[b]Chapter Three: I'm My Own Worst Enemy[/b]

[i]Shit![/i]

I roll my eyes. Maybe if I blow this off, I'll be safe from the oh-so-scary power of the alpha.

"Nothing." I attempt to push past Sam, avoiding eye contact.

Sam stops me by grabbing my arm. "Seth Adlai Elan Clearwater. You are not leaving my sight. You tell me, [i]what did you do?[/i]"

"Get off me!" I tug my arm free and attempt to stalk off. Sam's face fills with rage. He still has his werewolf temper, after all. Thank God. Emotion from the Alpha. I should thank the lord.

He growls. The look on his face… I've pissed him off, for sure.

"Tell me what you did." His tone is that of the Alpha, and I am powerless.

I'm stuggling to remain upright under his command. My knees buckle. Sam stares straight into my eyes, never looking away. He's got the Alpha power inside him, burning through me, and suddenly, I am kneeling underneath him.

"F***," I mutter.

Sam growls. He hates my bad language. The other guys do it; why can't I? He's too used to the old me, the happy one, the one content with everything.

"[i]Tell me what you did, Seth Adlai Elan Clearwater.[/i]"

I want to spit on Sam, but I can't. I'm about to throw up, that's how hard I'm struggling not to tell Sam. He shouldn't know something is up, and he shouldn't get into my own damn business.

"Bar… fight…" I gurgle out. It's a small relief to the pressure on me, but I'm still bowed down, in human form, which makes it all the more humiliating.

Still in Alpha command, Sam says, "More."

And I am so powerless now. My head bent under his words, I explain everything: the running, the anger, feeling horrible, sick of it all, going into the bar, wanting some, hitting on girls, hitting that ass, being kicked out, the bar fight. It's all pouring out.

Sam heaves an enormous sigh. I realize, after feeling this way, that he's tired too. "Seth, I of all people [i]know[/i] you're upset about what's been lost. I [i]know[/i], and don't you forget. But running into bars, hitting on girls, starting fights, and then running away isn't going to bring you to terms with what happened. Leah's upset too." Sam cringed at the name. He still loved Leah, no matter how much he loved Emily.

I shake my head. "Maybe it's not the right way to deal with it, but it's MY way of dealing. I'm screwed up over it. I'm fine with the way I am. I LIKE the way I am. Maybe now I'll get respect. Maybe now I'll get a girl. I'm the one who has no dad and who's got Leah for a sister. But apparently that's not punishment enough, is it? Ohhh, no, not for Seth Clearwater."

"You already get respect. You're the beta now, remember?"

"Ohh, [i]how[/i] could I forget? You should have just given it to Quil, not to me, out of pity. I'm fifteen. I don't need to learn how to manage a pack."

"You're doing just fine." Sam's gritting his teeth. I can tell I'm irritating him.

"No, I'm not. Weren't you the one implied that I need therapy? Yeah, nice. Way to score with an angsty, pissed off Seth Clearwater."

Sam's snarling now. I'm evoking lots of different emotions from him. It makes me feel pleased. "You're messing with the Alpha, Seth. Don't forget what I can do."

"Oh, right. Force me to do your bidding by your magical powers." I snort. "Don't forget what [i]I[/i] can do."

With that, I lift up my arm and connect my fist with Sam's face. It's not the first punch I've thrown before, and it won't be the last, that's for sure. I feel the broken bone and blood on my hand, and I know I have to run. Part of me wants to stay and see what Sam can do, but I know if I do, I won't be conscious for at least a month.

I bolt out of there. Beneath my feet, I can feel the vibrations coming from Sam, shaking. He's about to phase. He's about to lose it. Sucks for him, phasing in his cute little girlfriend's shack. He'll tear it to pieces.

I'm out the door in under five seconds. I keep running, in human form, running, running, running. I'm not thinking of anything, either. I can hear Seth yowling in Em's house, and I can guess he's a) still pissed or b) he tore up the house. Too bad for him.

He's not going to find me if I don't want to be found. I'm causing trouble, and I don't want to deal with anyone. So where do I go?

I don't slow down as I enter Forks. I push my legs faster, looking at the blur of houses rush past me. White picket fences and pretty little (well-watered) gardens. Yeah. The life I don't have anymore.

There's a white house with light blue shutters that looks perfect. As I near it, I can see with my super-duper-whoopee! wolf eyesight that the paint is chipped and the hinges to the door are rusting.

Instinctively, I run around the house, into the backyard. Here. I'll stay. Here. It's not my type and it's not La Push, but I'm worn out for the day and for Christ's sake, I'm not running to Mexico.

There's random trees in the back, big, wide ones with leaves still on and dripping wet. I hide my huge, massive sandy colored body behind a giant oak with emerald leaves. I don't know what to do know, but I'm away from Sam, and that's what matters.

For some reason, Sam's not in my head. Either he's staying silent, or he phased back and not bothering me. At any rate, I'm thinking, [i]Sweetness,[/i] and I stare at the back of the house. It's sickening. One of the windows has pink, frilly curtains. A seven-year-old girl probably occupies the room. One of the rooms has olive green curtains, tastefully closed and very in-style, I can tell. The other room is blacked out. It's kind of freaky, but hey, I'm just here to hide.

I hate feeling like a coward.

Looking at curtains, hiding, running away, punching the Alpha. What is wrong with me?

Sam may be right, but I'm not going to admit it anyway soon. [i]He[/i] never did, anyway. He did what he pleased, right until the day he died.

And now I'm emulating it. If I go to far, I could end up like him.

I don't want that to happen! But… I'm… done. I've always been one thing, and he was my hero, and then he went and died! And then that caused me to screw myself around and get like him. It's sick. I've become the very thing he would have never wanted me to come.

I stare up at the rainy sky, wishing for a sign. I want something to hear me so bad.

[i]Jacob, why did you leave me?[/i]


	4. I Want To Be Somebody Else

**A/N: Long time, no update, I know. I've been busy. I'll try to be more reliable in updating this "masterpiece". (I use that term lightly.) Spot the Mortal Instruments reference and get a cookie!**

**Chapter Four: I Want To Be Somebody Else**

I know that I have to go back. It's unavoidable.

But lucky for me, I don't have to start hurrying up the process.

I sit there, behind that tree, blinking back the things I don't want to remember. I'm not going to remember them, not in a million freaking years. The other guys have their imprints, and I don't. I am all alone, now that he left me, and I'm all the more screwed up for it.

_Sam is going to kick your ass. He's mega-pissed right now._

Oh, shit. Quil's in my head right now. I'm not going to deal with it.

_Dude, get over it and come back. What the hell were you thinking? You can't ignore me._

_Oh, yes I can,_ I say to myself, knowing that Quil will hear.

I phase quickly. I'm surprisingly not naked, seeing as I remembered before the bar to tie a pair of pants to my leg. Another habit from Jacob.

God, it's like he was my god, or whatever. Completely sick.

I pull up my pants in one quick motion, just as I see a head pop out of pink, frilly curtained room. It's of a girl, curly-haired and looking annoyed. The expression vanishes as soon as she sees me.

"WHAT THE HELL, YOU FREAKING VOYEUR?" She screams as loud as she can. With my super wolf hearing, I can hear her muttering. "Figures I'd be home alone when this happens. Where's the phone, where's the phone?" she mutters frantically.

She's going to call the police. Oh shit. Between the bar incident and this, I am in more trouble than most people experience in a lifetime.

Out of pure instinct, some sane part of me telling not to phase immediately, I shout back at the girl, "Don't kid yourself, sweetheart. Haven't you ever seen a refugee before?"

_A REFUGEE_? Oh, great. I am so dead. At least she won't shout back. She'll be too afraid of the big, hulking monster that lurks outside in the dark.

Wrong. Dead wrong. I can zero in on the girl and see her squint. Recognition passes over her face. "It's one of _you._ Those Quileute boys or whatever. God, don't you have your own girls to gawk at on the reservation?"

"Yeah," I shoot back, "Only, most of them are bitches."

She's got a temper, this girl. I notice it as soon as I see the high heeled shoe flying at my head. I duck.

"Ugh!" she screeches.

I can't believe she's not afraid. At all. Maybe she's delusional. Or a psych ward escapee. Either way, I'm amazed.

She even kills my super quick reflexes. Next thing I know, she's ten feet across from me, holding a baseball bat. She looks sort of comical, this curly haired girl in a mini dress, holding a bat. The dress shows off her legs. I try not to look.

"What the hell are you doing, coming out here?"

"Get the fuck off my property, Mr. Jolly Green Giant."

I growl in frustration. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that the nasty things, they come out in the dark?"

The bat comes down on my foot. I wince. Only a makeshift weapon would hurt me nowadays.

"Dude, chill. _What_ is your problem?"

"What is YOUR problem?" the girl fires back. She holds the bat aloft again, ready to strike. "I'm trying to chill, and I catch wind of a Peeping Tom. And don't expect me to buy into the sarcasm crap."

I sigh. "Whatever. Seriously, just chill, girl."

"I have a name, you stupid asshole."

"Please, do enlighten me of it." I cock and eyebrow as the sarcasm spills out.

"Like I'd tell you." She eyes me. "How the hell did you get so huge? And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I'll tell you if you put the bat down and tell me your name."

I shift my stance, trying to look menacing. I don't think it works, because the girl doesn't back down.

She glares at me. "Whatever, you dumbass."

"Number one, it's called_ puberty_. You've heard of that before, haven't you, little girl?"

She scowls. I continue. I'm wondering why she hasn't called the police yet.

"Number two, I don't like shirts. You just got free tickets to the gun show. Be grateful."

The girl narrows her eyes. "Sexist pig."

"I'm waiting for your name,_ girl,_" I say, semi-pissed that I'm trapped in this situation. If I leave now, she might call the police. But the longer I stay, the more at risk I put my pack, and herself. She's annoying, this chick, and who knows if I'll phase?

"Fine. It's Jessica. Happy?" She holds the bat menagncingly again, daring me. Under her breath, I hear a, "Bastard."

"I heard that."

Jessica flashes me a sunny smile. One dimple shows in her left check. "Oh, good. I'd hoped you would."

What is with this girl? "So why have you yet to call the police on me?" I ask. "Not that I'm ungrateful. No one wants a concussion, these days."

"That's a threat." She drawls out her words. "_And_ I'm waiting for an explanation as to why you are here."

"What if I choose not to disclose that information?"

She grins, something feral and sharp. The grin looks familiar on the face of Jessica, and déjà vu overwhelms me. "Then I sic the police on your ass, boy." She brings the baseball bat down on my foot again.

Groaning, I rub my foot. Shit, that one hurt. "Seth," I spit out, balancing on one leg while rubbing the other's foot. "It's Seth. And I'm only here because I got tired of dealing with things, so I ran. Yours is the backyard I ended up in."

"Well, aren't you lucky. Aren't your mommy and daddy worrying about you?"

Why do I even bother explaining? Jacob never did. "My mom's the only one I've got, Jessie, dear. And she's too busy worrying over what my sister's going to blow up yet."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" The baseball bat comes down by her side and props up her right arm. Her dress hikes up a bit. Damn, she's hot. Hot, but infuriating.

"You could. I wouldn't object. Pity parties are seldom a more than one person event, and I'm deciding to cordially invite you."

"Rejection," Jessica spits out. "Seriously, kid, Seth, monster, freak, whatever your name is, just get off my property. I'm in charge right now and I'll let you off the hook, because you're seriously annoying me and I need a break from selfish bastards."

I mock bow, my palms pressed together. "Thank you, master."

The scowl and annoyed look comes back onto her face. "Go," she says.

I obey. Without a second thought, I take off, running in human form. No use risking dealing with the rest of the pack. Plus, I got off the hook. No cops from Jessica, at least.

But then there are those cops of my own.

I do everything by instinct, these days, and when I run past Sam and Emily's house, the Alpha is there, waiting for me. His eyes are hard and his tone is final when he says, "Seth Adlai Elan Clearwater, get over her [i]right[/i] now."

Fuck.


End file.
